


Not A Guarantee

by writingonpostcards



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, POV Alternating, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>The thing with the marks is that they aren’t like a love at first sight thing. They aren’t magical in the sense that they’re going to make you fall in love with the other person. You still have to work for it, like in any relationship. The soulmarks just let you know that the two of you are in some way, more compatible with each other than anyone else.</em> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>Derek does sometimes wonder what it is he’ll say to his soulmate to get them to respond with “are you fucking serious”.</em></p><p> </p><p>One of those 'the first words your soulmate will say to you are tattooed on your body' AUs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Guarantee

Stiles is kind of nervous. Excited of course, but also just slightly nervous. Ok, that’s a lie. He is a lot nervous. A lot, a lot. Like, he is really regretting this shirt because the sweat patches must be visible from Mars.

He turned 18 two days ago and that means he’s old enough now for the ceremony. Officially the Mate Apparition Revelation Ceremony – it doesn’t even spell “mark” properly, Stiles has no idea why they even bothered – but no-one calls it that except the old stuffy folk who run the thing.

Speaking of which, Stiles should have been paying attention to the lady’s reading of the rites and acknowledgement to whatever church they’re doing this thing in.

Stiles is just one of sixteen newly 18 year olds. The local MARC representative does this ceremony weekly for everyone in the county who’s had their birthday. The MARC rep gives a speech about the role of the marks to help people find their soulmates and then each person is called up alphabetically to drink some kid of herbed tea. Scott told Stiles it tastes alright, _a bit like vanilla_ , and he just hopes that isn’t a lie because the thought of gagging in front of the other 18 year olds and their parents makes him even more nervous.

He glances around and spots his father in the second row of the audience. He’s nodding along sagely even though the MARC rep stopped talking and when he sees Stiles is looking at him he rolls his eyes and gives him a small wave.

His dad has always thought these ceremonies were just pomp and circumstance. But of course, it’s been years since he did his and they have – thank god for Stiles’ nerves – streamlined them since then. Besides, he knows his dad is grateful for them because otherwise how would he have known that the quiet girl a few years below him would be his perfect match if he hadn’t known the first thing she’d say to him would be “your tag’s sticking out”. Not that it was smooth sailing straight away. He’d had to wait until she was 18 before the conversation happened, and by that stage they were a little antagonistic toward each other, John the up-and-coming new police recruit and Claudia the social activist librarian. They were big into debating. With each other. But their marks matched up and they worked at it and their love was the stuff songs are written about.

But that’s how it works. You drink the magic tea (not really magic, more to do with biology and chemicals and your body reaching maturity... maybe a little bit of magic) and then _voila!_ The first words that your soulmate is going to say to you – post you both being 18 – appear tattooed forever just below where your heart sits in your chest. 

There are about 12 billion thesis papers out there about why the mark appears there – no prizes for guessing the most popular theory – but the truth is no-one really knows. Stiles likes to think it’s because it’s easy to cover up if it’s there. He’s heard about people getting stuck with some really uncomfortable soulmarks and it makes life easier for them he’s sure. Like that poor girl who lives a few houses down who got a list of about nine swearwords in a row. Although surprisingly Stiles heard that she and her partner hit it off right away.

Also, although everyone knows everyone gets a mark, they’re still kind of private. Stiles doesn’t like the idea of the words writing themselves across his forehead or on his palm or something where anyone can read them. And it takes the mystery out of it too. There are also murkier reasons why having the marks visible wouldn’t be a good thing which Stiles hears whispers about when he visits his dad at the station.

So the point is, it’s a big day for Stiles and he’s nervous. 

Because his last names starts with ‘S’ he’s the second last person to get called up and that only gives him more and more time to work himself up about it. He turns again to try and catch his dad’s eye and almost misses his name being called.

“Oh crap.” The guy next to him shakes his head as Stiles lurches forward and up the few steps onto the stage. He swallows nervously and looks into the old, crinkled eyes of the MARC rep.

“Drink it slowly. Drink the whole thing.” He nods at her, taking the glass which is half full with a greenish liquid. He breathes deeply and is surprised to scent vanilla. Scott must have been telling the truth.

He does as the lady said and drinks it slowly, one small sip at a time, until nothing is left. He hands her the empty goblet then steps past her and behind the small screen. It’s there for privacy, blocking Stiles now from view of the parents as he unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt and pulls it slowly to the side.

His eyes are drawn immediately to his new soulmark. It’s a deep, dark black that should fade slightly over time and it’s just two words.

_excuse me_

Stiles breathes out. Well, it’s not as telling as he could have hoped, but it’s also a far cry from the worst mark in the world. 

(He knows because he used to scroll through those horror mark websites when he was younger.)

He buttons his shirt up, fingers finally steady now that the ceremony is over, and steps out from behind the screen.

He immediately finds his dad’s eyes in the crowd and gives him a massive smile which heralds in his own happiness. Finally, _finally_ Stiles has some drive to his previously lacking romantic life, some inkling of hope that somewhere out there is the person who is the best match for him.

After the final guy has gotten his soulmark the MARC rep thanks all the attendees and then wishes them luck finding their soulmates.

Stiles bounds over to his dad and wraps him in a big hug.

“All good I hope?” His dad ruffles his hair and pulls back.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. Pancakes?”

“Lead the way.” Stiles follows along beside his dad, eager to stuff his face now that his stomach isn’t rolling around in nervousness.

Sitting across from him at their favourite diner, Stiles wishes his mum were still alive to see his ceremony. It must have shown on his face because his dad reaches to lay his hand over Stiles’ and says, “Me too kiddo.”

_

 

The thing with the marks is that they aren’t like a love at first sight thing. They aren’t magical in the sense that they’re going to _make_ you fall in love with the other person. You still have to work for it, like in any relationship. The soulmarks just let you know that the two of you are in some way, more compatible with each other than anyone else.

You don’t have to do anything with the information if you don’t want, but most people do. Who wouldn’t? Even though it’s not always immediately clear to soulmates, the marks means that somewhere down the line it’s all going to be rainbows and happiness and love between the two of them. And who doesn’t want that guarantee, regardless of how rocky the path to get there may be.

Take Scott for instance, Stiles used to feel very slighted by the fact that he found Allison only 3 weeks after turning 18. It’s not unheard of to find your partner so soon but it’s rare. Trust Scott Sunshine-and-Daisies McCall to be one of the lucky ones. The point is, because he and Allison found each other so early, they went through nearly three years of an on-again off-again relationship before both of them settled into the adults they are now and found the promised pot of gold at the end of the soulmates rainbow.

Stiles is 24 now and a little jaded by his soulmark. It turns out that “excuse me” is actually an extremely common phrase, and realising that wasn’t pleasant. 

For the first 2 years after he got his mark, Stiles’ heart would leap and start beating out a frantic samba inside his chest whenever anyone said “excuse me” to him. But clearly none of his responses were inscribed over anyone’s hearts.

Where Scott was in a small percentile having found his soulmate so soon, Stiles is also in a small percentile, but one that’s a lot more bleak. The marks, by some strange design, normally match people geographically close enough that their meeting isn’t a foregone conclusion. Most people meet their soulmate within 3 to 5 years. But Stiles is in his seventh year of being marked without finding his match.

Stiles has never, ever admitted this to anyone – his dad and Scott and Allison are all so hopeful for him – but he thinks it’s already happened. He thinks he’s met his soulmate and they just didn’t realise and he’s missed his chance. He thinks this because his normal response when someone says “excuse me” is to reply “yes?” and that’s even more bland of a mark than his. It doesn’t stand out to anyone and would be so easy to miss, particularly if his match was like him, already over the words that they do nothing to his heart anymore, let alone make alarm bells go off in his brain.

So that’s the sad truth of it. Stiles is 24, looking for a relationship, and living in a world where everyone is holding off until they meet their soulmate. There is always the option of finding love outside of the mark, but who is going to settle for less when every day they can look in the mirror and see proof of something better. Stiles himself tried dating other people for a bit before he realised he could never fully commit to someone he knew wasn’t his soulmate.

Stiles used to see his soulmark as a guarantee that he’d find his “one true love”. He scoffs at that term now because he knows better. The mark is not a guarantee, it’s just a mark.

-

When Derek was 18 and nervously standing at the front of a line of only 3 children getting their soulmarks, he still felt ambiguous towards the concept of soulmates.

The idea that there was actually one person who was better for you than other people was fine, he just didn’t like the unspoken rule in society that you _had_ to try and find that one person, and if you did, you had to stick with them and make it work.

Derek gave himself a year of celibacy after his 18th birthday, waiting for the person who would see him for the first time and say “are you fucking serious”. 

(He had sighed when he saw that in the mirror, aware immediately that he was in for some serious ribbing from Laura and Peter when he got home. But it could have been worse. He had an aunt who had a full limerick as her mark.)

After a year and no match, although there were a few close calls, Derek let the duty of finding his soulmate go and just enjoyed himself. He did extra-curriculars, joined sports teams, volunteered around town and when he was old enough went out to bars and clubs. He met people and dated people, some for months at a time, had one-night-stands, almost asked a girl to move in with him but then she found her soulmate a few days before he was going to ask ( _“do you have any duct tape?” “depends what it’s for”_ ). 

Cora thought it was rebellious of him but Derek didn’t see it that way. He just saw it as living his own life. Making his own decisions. In hindsight, it was ridiculous that he hadn’t actually found his soulmate doing that. But he had moved to a different state for college and then stayed there to work for a few years, rarely coming back to Beacon Hills.

He does sometimes wonder what it is he’ll say to his soulmate to get them to respond with “are you fucking serious”.

Tonight at the Hale’s bi-weekly family dinner, Cora walks through the door with a girl Derek has seen working in the local law firm and announces that they are soulmates and can Harriet please stay and eat with them. Derek is lifting his second bite of chicken pie up to his mouth and looking round at the people sitting at the table when he freezes. His mum and dad, Peter and Eliza, Laura and Grayson, Philip and Mathew, Cora and Harriet – they’re all soulmates and they all look so happy and content. Eventually Cora elbows him and causes the pie to smear across his jaw so he turns to scowl at her and pushes his feelings aside. .

That night back at his apartment lying, alone, in bed they come rushing back up to the surface.

He wants to find his soulmate.

He wants it desperately.

Cora was still wrong about it being rebellion, but maybe she wasn’t so far off the mark. Derek has been fighting against something.

Through shaky breaths Derek goes back to when he was standing on stage at his ceremony, t-shirt lifted up to read the soulmark on his chest. It comes to him now, again, that little spark of excitement. _Hope_ , even.

Derek latches on to that feeling now and fills his brain with it and the idea that somewhere out there, there isn’t just someone who he’d be happy with – he’s found plenty of people like that already – but that one person who is his best possible other half.

It’s time he found them.

-

Derek wakes up to the sounds of someone banging furiously on his door. He groans and rolls out of bed, pulling on whatever pair of pants are the closest and goes to open the door.

“You listen here boy.” Derek wakes up a little more at his elderly neighbour’s yelling. “It’s far too early to be listening to music that loud. You turn that bloody emo music down or I’m going to report you to the superintendant.”

Derek rubs his hands tiredly over his face and shivers in the cold morning air.

“Mr Roberts, I think you have the wrong apartment. I haven’t been playing any music.”

“Nonsense boy. It’s clearly been coming from in here.”

Derek drowns out the next few minutes of the rant, trying not to blink or yawn too much. He doesn’t do a good job of it.

He shuts the door after Mr Roberts storms off and pads to his small kitchen, groaning again when he glances at the microwave clock and sees that it’s only 6:52 in the morning. After his revelation last night he’d had trouble finding sleep so he’s running on less than 4 hours right now.

He sighs and boils the jug for tea, giving up the concept of retreating back to bed now that he’s been up so long. It strikes him, when he’s on his second cup, that he probably could have just shut the door in Mr Roberts' face. He sighs and finishes off his tea, rinsing the mug and standing it on the drying rack before grabbing his recipe book off the shelf and flipping to the page he earmarked a few days ago.

He goes over the ingredient list for the cake and checks the state of his pantry. Thankfully he has most things already but he needs to make a trip to the grocery store for some oranges and sour cream.

He gets distracted going for a shower when he sees his overflowing laundry hamper and wastes most of his morning catching up on washing and household chores. By the time he remembers he needs to visit the grocery store he’s cutting it close time wise in order to make Laura’s birthday dinner tonight which puts his brain into a light-panic mode.

He doesn’t speed to the grocery store but he’s efficient with his driving and possibly fudges a few yellow lights. He grabs a basket from the store’s entrance and heads straight for the fruit and veg section, thankful he’s so familiar with the layout of this place. He checks his watch. He needs to be home in 12 minutes to start cooking the cake.

-

Stiles answers his ringing phone, checks the caller ID and answers with a “Yo, daddy-o” as he adds _fresh oregano_ to his shopping list. He hears his dad sigh over the line but he obviously chooses to ignore the nickname.

“What time did you want me over tonight Stiles?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Stiles runs through how long it’s going to take him to get out to the supermarket and then back home to actually cook the dinner, “like 6pm?”

“Ok. I’m off work at 4 today so that should be good. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“Nah dad. I can handle it.” Stiles adds _actually good beer_ to his shopping list. “I feel bad about bailing out of family dinner last week so it’s all on me.”

His dad’s gruff laugh sounds down the phone. “You know I don’t mind that you had to cancel a week to help Scott and Allison move into their house.”

“Still, I’ve got it.”

“Ok son. I’ll see you this evening.”

“Bye dad.” 

Stiles hangs up and consults his cookbook one last time, double checking he’s written everything he needs down on his list. When he’s 100% certain he grabs his wallet and keys from the bench and heads down to his jeep, almost reversing out the driveway before he’s dashing back to grab the list he spent the last 20 minutes writing. He once made it all the way to the store before realising he’d forgotten the list so he counts this as a success rather than a failure

This week’s Stilinski family dinner coincides with what would have been his parents wedding anniversary and he’s cooking a special dinner of his mum’s favourite foods. She was big into comfort food so nothing is hard to make, just a few less common ingredients he needs for the polenta chips. Like polenta.

Stiles’ local grocery store has most of the things on his list but after asking 4 separate staff he has to give up on finding the polenta here. He buys his other ingredients though and loads them into the back of his jeep.

The 4 workers he asked about the polenta all suggested the same grocery store about a 15 minute drive away and Stiles debates whether it’s worth it. He can always skip the polenta, just make a dish with potatoes instead. He bites his lips and runs a hand through his hair.

“Screw it.” He starts the car and pulls up the GPS on his phone to program in this other grocery store. The whole point of this dinner is to make his mum’s favourite foods so that’s what he’s going to do. It just means he’s cutting it close to his 6pm time, adding an extra half hour drive. He might have to call his dad and move it later. Again.

-

Derek goes over the recipe in his head, checking that he has all the ingredients in his basket. Another year, another of Laura’s massive birthday dinners, another elaborate cake request. Derek sighs. He really should have started baking by now.

He checks his watch. If he makes it home within the next 10 minutes and starts cooking right away, he’ll only be about 40 minutes late to the dinner, which considering Laura is late to everything anyway, is probably within the bounds of acceptability.

With that settled he remembers that he needs more yogurt for himself so heads to aisle seven of his local supermarket to pick some up. He’s trying to be quick about it though, conscious of the two hour cooking time the cake needs, so walks quickly down the empty aisle giving his watch an arbitrary glance. Home in 8 minutes. He can do that.

He spots his preferred brand quickly and grabs one, adding it to his basket. It looks like they have a new flavour sitting on the top shelf so Derek shrugs to himself and stretches up to reach it, balancing on tiptoe to wrap his fingers around the very edge of one, which means that when someone bumps into him from behind he loses his balance and ends up dragging the yoghurt off the shelf.

It’s comical how slowly it falls off the shelf, lid loose from Derek’s manhandling of it, to drop right onto the other person’s head, opening up and spilling its entire contents all over this guy’s head and shirt, but missing Derek completely.

Both of them just stand there in terse silence, Derek tracking the path of a rather large glob of the white liquid as it falls from a clump of thick, dark hair to drop onto the guy’s shirt which is now clinging to a rather impressively lean chest.

He’s in the process of getting distracted by the impression of nipples through the yoghurt covered shirt when the other guy speaks.

“Are you fucking serious.” It sounds like this guy has bypassed being annoyed and is right on to anger.

“Excuse me?” Derek didn’t think he meant to say that, but yoghurt guy is distractingly attractive and his brown eyes are sparking at Derek, igniting his own argumentative tendencies. Plus he has to be home in 7 minutes.

“Seriously?” The other guy continues, finally bringing him arms into motion to wipe yogurt off his arms and chest, _splat_ sounds accompanying each movement as yogurt falls to the floor at his feet. “No ‘sorry I just upended an entire tub of yoghurt on your head?’”

“You’re the one who bumped into me.” Derek points out logically, enjoying the way only half of yoghurt guy’s hair is plastered to his head. Home in 6 minutes. “It’s not my fault.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise we were playing the blame game, because in that case, it _was_ your fault. You could have gotten the same damn yoghurt from a shelf that you can actually reach, not stupidly from the top.”

Derek almost points out the he was going for the new flavour but his brain is sending him signals that that isn’t a good idea. At least he thinks that’s what those signals are.

“Look, whatever-your-name-is, I-”

“Stiles.” He says it like a challenge.

“Stiles? Is that even a real- You know what, never mind.” Derek looks at his watch. Home in 4 minutes. Not achievable unless he speeds. “I’m just here to get ingredients for my sister’s birthday cake, not start an argument with someone who doesn’t understand the concept of spatial awareness.”

Stiles scoops a large portion of yogurt off his shoulder and looks for a moment like he’s debating throwing it at Derek before he just lets it slip through his long fingers and onto the floor.

Derek shakes his head at him and reaches for another yoghurt, purposefully choosing from the top shelf while Stiles stands there in his indignant fury. He puts it into his basket and smiles at Stiles, feeling a thrill at pissing him off even further if the narrowing of his eyes is anything to go by.

“I suppose you’re going to smash your sister’s face into the cake when you give it to her.” Stiles delivers the line with confidence, smirking despite being drenched in yoghurt.

Derek looks at his watch again. He should be home by now. Whatever drive had made him rile Stiles up is leaving alarmingly quickly, replaced by tiredness and annoyance. Regardless of how attractive Stiles may be, Derek is no longer in the mood for arguing with a stranger in the supermarket.

“You know fuck all about my life, _Stiles_.” He lets the name drip in sarcasm and faux-familiarity. “Why don’t you go find some other aisle to drip yoghurt all over.”

Derek fights the urge to brush past Stiles as he walks away, conscious (in several different ways) that the guy is covered head to toe in yoghurt.

He buys his shopping and arranges it in the trunk of his car. He hasn’t had a good argument with anyone in a long time and he’s feeling flush with the adrenaline of it, remembering how Stiles’ eyes has vacillated between wide open in shock and narrowed in annoyance throughout their banter.

Derek spots him across the parking lot, aggressively filling the trunk of a blue jeep. He can’t help but laugh at the sight of him.

The sound must carry because Stiles turns toward Derek, fists clenched by his side. Even across the distance Derek can see something settle in Stiles’ eyes and before he knows it, the other man is whipping of his shirt and throwing it into the trunk as well.

Derek’s eyes widen of their own accord at the unexpected move. He isn’t sure whether Stiles meant it as something that would make him feel guilty or uncomfortable, because it’s not doing either. If anything, Derek is rather enjoying the view. Stiles is very attractive.

Stiles tilts his head back in confidence and smirks at Derek, like he knows what he’s thinking. Maybe that was the intention of his stripping after all.

Derek tracks his eyes obviously down Stiles’ figure and cocks his head, raising an eyebrow at him in a challenge. Stiles barely drops his stance at all. Derek is impressed by his confidence. 

Whatever climax their eye contact is building up to is broken when a lady comes out of the store with a young child in her cart, sees Stiles, and proceeds to run the cart into a pole.

Stiles does fold a little then and he’s in the jeep and reversing out of his parking spot before Derek has begun to move.

-

Stiles is pissed. 

He’s covered in yogurt and freezing cold and dangerously close to missing dinner with his father. Again.

Who on earth did that guy even think he was? Like, first he had to go and reach for the top shelf yoghurt and then his stupid muscled hands couldn’t even hold on to it properly and so he goes and spills it all over Stiles. That stuff is cold. It’s going to be such a bitch to wash out of his t-shirt. And then he doesn’t even apologise. No, he just blames the whole thing on Stiles which is unfair.

Stiles sighs out again and turns the heating up in his jeep, angling the vents so they blow air straight onto his skin. He’s not entirely sure why he thought it would be a good idea to get half naked in front of a guy who, for all he knows, could be a professional model. It does feel marginally more comfortable to be out of his yoghurt drenched top. Let’s go with that answer.

His anger causes him to unintentionally speed home which means he doesn’t have to push back dinner at all. He gets the polenta – the only good thing to come out of the second supermarket visit – into the oven early and puts the bolognese on simmer before going to shower. The yoghurt thankfully washes away very easily, although he can still smell it on himself even after shampooing his hair twice.

When his dad knocks on his door a little after 6 and wraps Stiles in a warm hug, he immediately comments on it which launches Stiles into a rant about Yoghurt Man. It is possible that he talks all the way through the two of them devouring his polenta chips. After he winds down his father just gives him a knowing look which has Stiles flashing back to post his first day of high-school and his oft-recounted-by-his-father Lydia Martin monologue. 

“No dad. No way. It’s not like that.” And then he argues for a good half of their dinner about why it isn’t and his dad, good guy that he is, doesn’t say anything about it.

Stiles' dreams betray him that night and he wakes up in the morning angry that Yoghurt Guy so quickly embedded himself into Stiles' psyche.

-

Derek efficiently makes the cake batter when he gets home (12 minutes after he should have been back) and puts it in the oven, setting the timer for 2 hours. It’s only as he’s putting away the yoghurt that caused him so much trouble back at the store that it hits him.

He slumps heavily into the bar stool in the kitchen and swears out under his breath.

_“Are you fucking serious.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“Seriously? No ‘sorry I just upended an entire tub of yoghurt on your head?’”_

_“You’re the one who bumped into me. It’s not my fault.”_

Stiles is his soulmate.

He just made a really horrible first impression.

-

The receptionist is worried about him when Stiles gets to work the day after the yoghurt incident based solely on the fact that he doesn’t say good morning to him. Stiles doesn’t actually realise he forgot to say hi, caught up still in his anger over Yoghurt Man, but feels kind of crap about his behaviour when his receptionist comes in with a massive take-away coffee from his favourite place down the street.

He thanks him and tells his brain it’s time to forget about Yogurt Man and focus instead on writing up the case notes for one of the junior partners. He’s spent enough time angsting about it ever since waking up from his dream up to, well, 3 seconds ago.

It actually works wonderfully for most of the morning but at around 1 in the afternoon, just as he’s contemplating taking his lunch break, his receptionist sticks his head in and announces there’s a Derek Hale to see him. 

Stiles has not heard that name before and his heartbeat speeds as he gets up and moves to stand in front of his desk. He tries to recall the names of everyone at the firm but he can’t remember any Hale. When the man walks in through the open door Stiles understands why the name doesn’t ring any bells.

It’s Yoghurt Man.

Stiles' heart continues to beat rapidly, but not with nerves, nope, he’s right back to anger, possibly even worse than this morning because he’s been bottling it up now for hours.

He doesn’t give Yoghurt Man – Derek Hale – a chance to say anything before he starts ranting.

“Again? Are you serious. Why are you here? Are you following me? Here to spill something else on me? Maybe a burning hot coffee this time to contrast with the freezing cold yoghurt. Or are you here to apologise for absolutely _ruining_ my day yesterday.”

“Look, Stiles. I didn’t come here to do any of that.” Derek takes his hands out of his pockets and presents them to Stiles, showing him they’re empty. He takes a step forwards but Stiles is wary of what this unfairly attractive, unpleasant, yoghurt-spilling guy is doing here so he takes a step back. Can’t be too careful even though Derek does look and sound far less angry than yesterday (but no less gorgeous).

“Hold up. You _aren’t_ here to apologise? Am I not worthy or something?” Maybe Stiles is a bit extreme in his anger, but he feels he does deserve an apology for not only the yoghurt spilling but their following argument. “I know that someone like you is probably not used to having to use common human decency to get places in life but-“

“Stiles would you shut up for one minute! _Please!_ ”

Stiles snaps his jaw upwards and stills his hands, staring at Derek and raising his eyebrows.

“ _Thank you_. What I came here to tell you is that you and I are soulmates and I’m taking you out to lunch.”

“What?”

“We’re soulmates.”

Stiles shakes his head, unbelieving that Derek – Yoghurt Man, Mr Male Model, looks like he has more money than is sensible, infuriatingly argumentative Derek (don’t ask how he read all this from just one meeting of a few minutes) – is the person who he’s supposed to have a rainbows and butterflies relationship with. He brain supplies visions of the two of them going on dates, holding hands and sharing kisses. No way is that in Stiles' future. He laughs out loud, so hard he has to press his hands to his aching stomach.

“Oh for the-” Derek sighs out aggressively and shuts Stiles’ office door before quickly shucking his jacket off, throwing it at Stiles who catches it automatically. Then he grabs the hem of his t-shirt and yanks it up to his armpits, revealing his mark to Stiles.

Stiles doesn’t actually look at it at first, too distracted by a gloriously toned chest with a thick trail of hair leading into Derek’s jeans. He sways toward Derek almost involuntarily and lets out a breath of air because if Derek is right then he’s won some kind of soulmate lottery, at least in the looks department. Not that he didn’t think Derek was already damn appealing to him – that jaw, that stubble, those hands – but it’s nice to know it continues on under the clothes as well. If only the personality matched.

Although if Derek is right about the soulmate thing then maybe over time Stiles will think that way.

“Stiles.” Derek bites out, and Stiles realises that he could have actually confirmed Derek’s assumption a minute ago had he not been distracted by muscles and chest hair. Also it probably isn’t very comfortable for Derek to be just standing there in his office, practically half naked. Stiles blinks himself out of it, mumbling “right, right, sorry” under his breath and focuses on Derek’s mark.

It’s more faded than his probably because Derek looks several years older than him.

_are you fucking serious_

Stiles gulps. The situation is not so humorous anymore. He spent enough time being angry over their encounter yesterday that he’s pretty sure he’s remembered it word for word. And those are exactly his words.

“Ok. Ok then.” Stiles clenches the jacket in his hands a little tighter and steps closer to Derek, moving his eyes from Derek’s soulmark to his eyes. They’re nice to look at too, Stiles realises. He probably only missed them yesterday because he was viewing Derek through a veil of anger. “So yesterday after you spilled your yogurt on me, which I still think is your fault by the way,” Stiles informs Derek, anger dissipated but still sure of his guiltless status in their unfortunate meeting. Derek simply rolls his eyes.

“You said to me, ‘are you fucking serious’” Derek continues his train of thought and draws his finger across his soulmark as he speaks, then lowers his t-shirt finally. Stiles is a little sad about that loss. “Then I said, ‘excuse me’. I assume that’s what your soulmark is?” Derek gestures at Stiles' chest and stands there waiting for something.

“Oh right. Hang on.” Stiles thrusts Derek’s jacket back at him and unbuttons his shirt as Derek puts the jacket on. Stiles pulls his shirt to the side, showing his mark, and Derek has no qualms about running his own finger over it like he’d done to his own. Stiles’ body simultaneously tries to pull away and push towards Derek’s surprisingly warm finger. 

“Yep. ‘Excuse me’. In the flesh. Or on the flesh, depending how you want to look at it.” That comment actually seems to get a smile from Derek and Stiles quickly looks down to re-button his shirt, confused to see it. He is beginning to hope he sees more of it though. Derek’s smile is gorgeous. 

“I’m right.” Derek breathes out, managing to sound both surprised and smug to Stiles’ ears.

“Yeah I-“ Stiles’ words cut out. “ _Shit_. I guess you are.” He takes a deep breath and watches Derek do the same. “We’re soulmates.”

He looks back into Derek’s eyes, _stares_ really, at the mix of colours swirling around his pupils. He can see his own surprise mirrored in them. 7 years waiting for his soulmate and now he’s standing right in front of Stiles, seemingly willing to work at a relationship.

“So, lunch?” Derek prompts as Stiles continues to stare at him.

“Yeah. Fine.” He was going to take his break now anyway, so it’s not like he’s changing his day around just for the chance to get to know Derek. Stiles can feel a little flutter low in his abdomen that tells him that even if that’s true, he _is_ excited to get to know his soulmate.

On the other hand, his brain is still demonstrating its proven ability to obsess and he can feel phantom yoghurt sliding down the back of his neck as Derek turns to open up his office door. 

“I’m telling you in the interest of full disclosure,” Stiles begins, pandering to his still slightly pissed brain, “that I am still holding residual anger towards you from yesterday.”

“And I’m still holding residual irritation towards you from both our conversations.” Derek was almost too quick with that reply and Stiles finds himself narrowing his eyes, both impressed and pissed at Derek’s evident banter abilities.

“Good.” 

“Good.” Derek replies somewhat sarcastically, opening the door and gesturing for Stiles to exit first.

Stiles narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. “So now that you know we’re soulmates you’re being a gentleman.”

“Quite the opposite. I just want to check you out as you walk past me.” Stiles blushes despite himself and surreptitiously clears his throat.

“Well in that case.” He exits his office making sure to move his hips just a little more than is necessary and makes sure to turn back to give Derek an exaggerated wink.

He forgot his receptionist sits just outside his office and his blush returns when he hears him choking on whatever he was drinking.

-

Derek appreciates the view of Stiles as he follows him out of the office. 

“I only have an hour.” Stiles pauses long enough for Derek to fall into step beside him, his cheeks still faintly red and face no less attractive for it.

“That’s fine. We shouldn’t place too much pressure on our first meeting anyway.”

“Hate to tell you Derek, but we already did our first meeting.”

“I’m deciding to ignore that because I believe this lunch will be much more successful.” Derek crosses the street aiming for the one cafe in the area who makes coffee better than he can at home.

“But Derek, think of how great the yoghurt story will be to tell our grandchildren.”

“I thought we weren’t putting pressure on ourselves.” Derek almost trips over the curb at Stiles’ bold statement. When he looks over at the other man he can tell Stiles is just trying to push his buttons. He’s probably still angry over yesterday which Derek can’t be annoyed at him for. It would have been pretty sucky to be in Stiles’ position.

Derek frowns as he looks Stiles over, noticing for the first time factors beyond his appealing physical attributes. Stiles looks several years younger than him. Derek wonders whether Stiles would have even been 18 before he left for college. Maybe he’s ribbing Derek so hard because he’s not ready like Derek is to settle down with his soulmate. Not that Derek knew it until last night, but he’s been waiting for Stiles for... _god_ , for nearly 10 years.

And now he’s found him. 

“Earth to Derek. Do you copy?” Derek blinks and Stiles even goes so far as to lift a hand to wave in front of his eyes. Derek grabs at it and pushes it against Stiles' chest, subconsciously brushing against where his soulmark would be as he lets go of it.

“Sorry, I just, how old are you?”

“Not even inside the cafe and you’re already interrogating me.”

Derek sighs. He doesn’t want to ruin this thing before it starts but it seems Stiles is a naturally argumentative person.

“Sorry,” he says again. “Shall we?” He opens up the cafe door for Stiles and sees the other man’s eyes narrow slightly, evidently still surprised that Derek can be nice, or as he said earlier, ‘a gentleman’, after yesterday’s meeting.

Once settled into a corner table Stiles answers Derek’s question.

“I’m 24. I wasn’t really serious about the interrogation line.” He offers after a pause. “I guess I'm reeling a little from the reality of you being my soulmate.”

“Me too.” Derek offers Stiles a smile and gets one in return, feeling that little spark of hope in his chest like the one he’d spent all last night remembering.

“Are you worried about the age difference? I mean, I know we’re soulmates but,” Stiles bites his lip before continuing, “but is that going to bother you? Because I don’t want you to feel you have to do this if you’re just going to be worried about it all the time.”

“How old do you think I am?” Derek lowers his eyebrows, curious. The 4 years between them isn’t a big deal. Peter and Eliza are almost 10 years apart.

“33?”

Derek can’t help but laugh though stops quickly when it causes Stiles to curl in on himself and sink into his chair.

“Sorry, it’s just, I’m 28. And even if I was 33, it wouldn’t bother me. We’re soulmates and I really want to try to make a relationship between us work.”

Stiles sits up straight again and drops his shoulders, smiling. Derek looks into his eyes and see that spark that was there yesterday return.

“Good. Me too. But if you order anything with yoghurt in it I might have to break it off with you.”

“And I was going to just ask for a big bowl of it.” Derek teases, following the change of mood Stiles initiated.

-

“You know what’s been bugging me?”

Derek raises his eyebrows, halfway through a mouthful of chicken sandwich, instead of speaking. They're nice eyebrows, Stiles thinks to himself, very expressive.

“Ever since I got the mark - the first words my soulmate was going to say to me - I’ve been thinking about it like they’d be the one to start the conversation. I never even considered it’d be me.”

“Well,” Derek swallows, “it turned out alright didn’t it?”

“Hmm,” Stiles teases, tilting his head to the side and pretending to consider Derek seriously, “decision pending.”

Derek smiles easily at Stiles. Every time he does, and it’s been getting more frequent as their lunch hour draws to its end, Stiles feels the little bloom of hope in his chest get bigger. The yoghurt incident yesterday wasn’t such a great meeting, but so what? Derek’s right. It had worked out.

“I’m glad my first words to you were so individual.” Stiles continues his train of thought out loud.

“Why?”

“Do you know how common ‘excuse me’ is as the first thing you can say to someone? I think I developed a fear of crowded public spaces for a bit there, all these random new faces rushing past me, saying ‘excuse me’. Had to give up working in retail too.”

“I don’t think anyone can be upset to quit a retail job.”

“You are definitely right there. But I guess my point is, maybe I should be thanking you.” Derek looks quizzical at that, and pauses with his water glass halfway to his lips. 

“It all hinged on you didn’t it?” Stiles continues, watching as Derek’s glass finally meets his lips and his throat works to swallow the water. “I wasn’t going to realise you were my soulmate by myself. I wouldn’t have even thought it until you brought it up and showed me your soulmark.” Stiles glances down to Derek’s chest remembering his words written there.

“You don’t have to thank me. It was kind of stupid of me not to realise it right there at the supermarket.”

“Because that would have been the best time for you to tell me, when I was covered in yoghurt and furious at you.”

“And I supposed leaving you to stew for a night was better then?” Derek hasn’t even known Stiles a full day and he’s already able to guess his thoughts.

“True, true.” Stiles concedes his point then glances at the cafe's clock and sighs. “I need to get back to work now.”

“Ok. Can I walk you?”

“Uh yeah, sure.” Stiles gets up and pushes his chair in, Derek doing the same. This time, Stiles opens the door for Derek who steps through first without hesitation. When he glances back and sees Stiles obviously checking out his ass, Stiles smiles victorious as Derek's cheeks colour.

“Payback,” he chirps, rushing to catch up to Derek.

It’s a little awkward back at the office. Stiles’ receptionist chokes again when he walks back side by side with Derek and Stiles quickly leads them both to his office and shuts the door behind him.

When he turns around Derek is looking openly at him, hands fisted inside his pockets.

“I may not have shown it, but I enjoyed lunch. With you. So, thanks again for letting me know we are soulmates.”

“You don’t have to thank me Stiles.”

“Fine.”

“Can I see it again?” Stiles blurts when the silence starts hedging toward awkward. Derek seems to take it in his stride though, lifting his t-shirt without fuss.

Stiles steps right up to Derek and this time he runs his own finger over the mark.

“Maybe I should be apologising instead of thanking you.”

“Why?” Derek breathes out softly, hot air ghosting across Stiles' face.

“It’s got a swear word. And it’s kind of insulting.”

“I don’t mind. They’re your words.”

Stiles presses his fingertips against the mark and looks up at Derek, who is still holding his shirt up and allowing Stiles to feel him up in his office.

-

Stiles’ blush is fast becoming one of Derek’s favourite things about him. And the way he can switch between serious and light-hearted in the same breath. And how funny he can be. And his eyes. And his long fingers which are still pressing against his bare skin, right on his mark.

Stiles steps back though and runs a hand through his hair, gaze flitting away from Derek’s.

“I meant what I said earlier.” Stiles flicks his eyes back to look at Derek again. “No pressure for a relationship.”

Derek waits until Stiles nods at him.

“So, can I get your number then?”

Stiles huffs out a laugh and grabs a business card from his desk, brushing against Derek in the process. He takes a pen from the jar on his desk and writes across the back of the card.

“Here. That’s my personal cell number.” Derek smiles at Stiles as he hands it over, reading his number then flipping the card over to see the front.

“Stiles Stilinski.”

“That is a story for another time.” Stiles interrupts, seeming to pick up where Derek was going despite only knowing him for a day.

“I’ll hold you to it.” Derek smiles, pocketing the business card. “Have a good day then Stiles. I’ll text you.”

“Ok.” Stiles smiles and leans back against his desk. Derek nods and lets himself out of the office, smiling at the flustered receptionist with probably a little too much enthusiasm. He’s happy though, and excited. He hadn’t let himself think about the possibility of things not working out with Stiles and thank goodness he hadn’t because it all would have been unfounded.

He’s standing beside his car when someone calls his name.

He turns around and sees Stiles jogging towards him, smile stretched across his face and hair looking more dishevelled then when Derek last saw him.

“Stiles? What are you-“

Stiles grabs Derek’s face with both hands and brings their lips together for a mere second.

“You better text me, ok? I think this thing could be really great between us.”

Derek can’t do much but nod his agreement though he manages to catch Stiles by the wrist when he turns to leave.

“Not so fast.” He tugs on Stiles’ arm and meets the forward momentum with his own movement, pressing his lips against Stiles' and moving them so they interlock in a much more satisfying way than before. “I’ll text you.”

Derek watches as Stiles walks back down to street to his office, smiling happily and feeling the spark of hope in him burst into something bigger and better.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read. Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://www.whatthehellisahoechlin.tumblr.com)
> 
> Depending on response I'd definitely consider writing more of this, building their relationship up and things. So let me know what you think.
> 
> EDIT (10/05/15): I've been thinking about how to expand this story and the trajectory of the characters and I just can't seem to work anything out further for them. I did intend this as a one-shot initially and it's stayed that way in my brain. So I won't be adding more to the story. Sorry if I gave anyone false hope. _(To answer one question you may have, Derek found Stiles through Harriet - Cora's soulmate - who works at the law firm with him.)_
> 
> p.s. This work is un'beta-ed but if you point out any glaring errors I'll probably fix them for you :)


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